Joey Miller's Thursday was probably better than your Thursday. He got to ride in the front seat of a police vehicle, rub the back of a K-9, clamber around on a fire department ladder truck and bang a judge's gavel.

In other words, he lived a whole episode of "Law & Order" without leaving Whitehall Township, courtesy of the township's police and fire departments.

For a 6-year-old who wants to be a police officer — who has wanted to be one for two years, which is a third of a 6-year-old's life — a day like that would be hard to beat.

It was gratifying for his family because Joey, who lives in Walnutport, has tough days ahead. Sometime this month, a cardiac surgeon at Children's Hospital of Philadelphia will spend five hours or so removing bundles of muscle left behind on his heart after a congenital hole healed.

These bundles are constricting like rubber bands, so Joey's right ventricle is essentially divided in two and the blood flow is almost completely blocked. Untreated, the flow would cease entirely and Joey would suffer a massive heart attack.

Without surgery, "he would remain completely asymptomatic until he just fell over," said his mother, Courtney, who is on pins and needles these days waiting for CHOP to call with the surgery date.

The operation should take care of the problem for good, she added. It's exceedingly rare for the bundles to grow back. She confessed that such assurances aren't really calming her nerves, though. Open-heart surgery is a daunting prospect for anyone, let alone a kindergartener.

Joey's afternoon of fun with Whitehall's finest and bravest came about after his maternal grandparents, Cathy and Darin Baus, asked family friend Mike Slivka, a Whitehall officer, if the department would send some good wishes to Joey ahead of his operation.

"I asked if the officers could take some selfies with signs saying 'Good luck, Joey,' and maybe send some cards," Cathy said.

Now, police officers are community-minded and never do things in half-measures. A while back I wrote about a North Catasauqua officer who recovered a badly damaged stolen car and took it upon himself to restore it for the owners, a working-class Allentown couple who never could have afforded a new one.

Similarly, Slivka and his colleagues found the idea of selfies and cards insufficient and set about arranging the special day.

When the Millers arrived, they were greeted by a big, cheering crowd: men and women in blue, firefighters, civilian aides and other well-wishers.

Joey climbed out of the car and grew a little wide-eyed. Fire Chief Mike Nelson gave him a fire helmet, which sat handsomely on his head.

"We're going to keep you in our prayers and thoughts," Nelson said. "OK?"

Joey nodded. He turned out to be a boy of few words, though his parents ascribed that to being overwhelmed by the big crowd.

At home, "he's a crazy, little 6-year-old boy," his mother said.

After Joey inspected the fire truck and petted Mex, the K-9, Slivka buckled him into a booster seat in the police SUV.

By this time, Joey had traded the fire helmet for a police officer's hat and Whitehall Township Police Department polo shirt. He lacked only a sidearm, handcuffs and a badge to complete the look, but he owns toy versions of these and will undoubtedly don them in coming days to walk his beat in the hallways at home.

Accompanied by Joey's father, Joseph Sr., Slivka and his colleague-for-a-day briefly blasted the siren and headed off to visit the municipal building and the office of Magisterial District Judge Robert Halal.

There, Joey was admitted to the courtroom to have a look at the place where bad guys have their first encounter with a judge. He got to sit in the judge's chair and was allowed to bang the gavel, which he did with great vigor.

"He almost put it through the desk," his father said.

As the SUV returned, Joey's voice came over the PA system, with all the authority a 6-year-old could muster.